


Rumours of His Return

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ficlet, Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 06:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: There is talk in the tavern. Guts eats his supper and tries to ignore it.





	Rumours of His Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwordofRebecca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordofRebecca/gifts).



There is talk in the tavern. Guts eats his supper and tries to ignore it.

The patrons are all abuzz. It wasn’t an ordinary dream, they say. It was a prophecy, they say; it had to be.

The meat Guts has been served is mostly gristle. It’s hard to chew, and it tastes rancid. No matter. He swallows anyway, forcing it down.

The saviour foretold is risen, they say. He will liberate Midland from the Kushan invaders, they say. He will rule the world.

_A Falcon of Light._

Guts lifts his mug and knocks back the last of his beer. Disgusting, watery swill. When he slams the mug onto the table, the ceramic shatters into jagged shards. The patrons surrounding him pretend not to notice. The Black Swordsman makes them exceedingly nervous.

Guts remembers the darkness and the demons. He remembers losing his arm, his eye, too many of his friends. He remembers losing the man he cared for most - the worst of unending nightmares.

So, there are rumours of Griffith’s return. Is this hatred Guts feels stirring deep within his heart? Or is it lust, the desire to exact vengeance? Or...could it...possibly be...hope? Hope...of reconciliation?

No, not that. Never that.

But this feeling, whatever it is, it aches inside of him. Oh, it aches! He discovers that he cannot tolerate it. He must not tarry here any longer; otherwise, he will go mad.

As Guts rises from his seat and shoves his way through the milling crowd and out the tavern door, he tells himself what he feels can’t possibly be the pain of enduring love.

 

* * *

_**-fin-** _


End file.
